


Bowties and Switchblades and Pearls, Oh My!

by Miss_sunfire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Joker has a daughter, Joker is his own trigger warning, harley quinn's daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 16:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_sunfire/pseuds/Miss_sunfire
Summary: “So you see, my gorgeous little bauble, what you need to know is that all the world’s a cruel joke! Every corrupt cop, every handsy priest, every fat-cat politician knows this, but has to trudge through the day pretending life has meaning. What we do is needed! After all, if all the world’s a joke, everyone needs to be laughing!” The man with hair of acid, a laugh of mania and a poisonous grin cackled.The girl, barely out of diapers for a year,  but smart as a whip and growing up fast stared up at him rapturously. As if the clown-prince held all the truths of the universe in his acerbic rant. Her features pinched in contemplation of his sage words before blinking in stunned realization.“B-But D-Daddy! If all the world’s just a joke… den isn’t dat awful sad? Wouldn’t it be bettuh to have a great big cry so we can feel bettuh again?”(The growl that follows is anything but loving.)
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Raven/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 14





	Bowties and Switchblades and Pearls, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! So yeah, I had a plot bunny that I absolutely had to let free for a bit. Works been a bit crazy and I've been spending my time off on a few different things so I havent' quite been writing as much. I'm getting back into it though, so who knows, maybe I'll update some of my other stories sometime.

Pearl always knew that she wasn’t quite like other kids. It took her a few years to really understand just _why_ though. 

At first she thought there was something wrong with her and her broken brain. Gotham was the city of madness. Every day thousands of sad, lonely kids opened their eyes to the ever present damp darkness. Screams and explosions were the constant backdrop of the city. Especially as rogue after rogue rampaged through the streets. It took months for her to realize the ever present feeling that life in the rainy city was too big, too sad, and too dark was hardly a sensation she was alone in having.

(All the little kiddies crying in the background of the news coverage as the orphanage burned. Daddy had been busy this month. The news was all scared and panicked. What was his next target? What was his final goal? Who knew? Certainly not her! Probably not him!)

When she finally realized that no, her feelings were perfectly normal, she started looking for other explanations. The answer then seems pretty obvious to her. After all, neither Pearl, nor her Daddy, nor her Mum look anything like all those people on the TV. For years she hadn’t really left the house or seen anyone besides her family. It had been easy to wave the good looks and dull hair of the news anchors away as “a bit of the ole Hollywood razzle dazzle” as her Mum was fond of saying. Still, she wonders about the pale, pale, pale white hair on her head. Not to mention the acid green shining eyes in the mirror. 

...Or even her neon purple lips, never once yet touched by makeup. Despite how her Mum and Daddy dress to face the day. 

So, she goes and asks them. Pearl had always been a curious little thing. Always following around on the heels of her parents. Asking incessant “Whys?” and “Hows.” Constantly guessing and learning and growing with a speed that always left a warm grin on her Mum’s face and a vicious gleam in her Daddy’s eyes. 

Her Mum is less than helpful. Pearl loves how warm the woman is. Truly. Harley is her favorite person in the world. All hugs, kisses, happy grins and funny jokes. Pearl never feels safer than when she’s in her mother’s strong arms. Never feels warmer than when she slips into that rumbly Gotham drawl to lull her daughter to sleep. After all, Harley would burn the world for her. She wants Pearl to be safe, happy and fulfilled more than anything in the wide world.

(Well, that warm look in her eyes during their infrequent trips to Aunt Ivy’s house is up there pretty far as well.) 

So Harley grins and unhelpfully but well meaningly assures Pearl that while she might look a little different than all the squares, Pearl is perfectly normal. After all, just look at Red and all the other rogues in Gotham. Why her darling Pearlie Pwincess’s appearance is practically restrained in comparison. 

Pearl is a perfectly normal and natural little girl after all. Adorable chubby cheeks and all. 

(She’s not, she’s not, she’s not. Something is wrong, wrong, wrong. Why is she so happy but so sad, sad, sad.)

So she goes and asks her Daddy. It’s a little scary. He’s never been the warmest or the kindest of people. Always so busy, with a bubbly laugh on his lips and another nasty scheme in his brain. He almost never has time to actually spend with Pearl. He spends most of his time locked up in his workshop, giggling and cackling as he builds. Still, it’s not like he doesn’t care at all. Every now and then he shows up to give Harley a big kiss and Pearl a hug. Then they’ll joke and laugh and be a family for a little while before he drags Harley out for another ‘punch out with batsy.’

(Whoever that is.)

It’s during one of these rare moments that she asks her question about why she is so different from everyone else. It’s one of her earliest and most vivid memories. The foundation that supports the first decade of her life. 

It sparks the longest, most spiteful rant yet. 

“So you see, my gorgeous little bauble, what you need to know is that all the world’s a cruel joke! Every corrupt cop, every handsy priest, every fat-cat politician knows this, but has to trudge through the day pretending life has meaning. What we do is needed! After all, if all the world’s a joke, everyone needs to be laughing!” The man with hair of acid, a laugh of mania and a poisonous grin cackled. 

The girl, barely out of diapers a year ago, but smart as a whip and growing up fast stared up at him rapturously. As if the clown-prince held all the truths of the universe in his acerbic rant. Her features pinched in contemplation of his sage words before blinking in stunned realization. It isn’t every day that one finds their purpose, their ultimate reason for their existence. Especially when it slams into her like a ton of bricks.

“B-But D-Daddy! If all the world’s just a joke… den isn’t dat awful sad? Wouldn’t it be bettuh to have a great big cry so we can feel bettuh again?” Pearl asked, naive determination and thoughtful hope ringing in her voice. 

The growl that follows is anything but loving.

Nor the slap that follows it. 

Nor the screams of her Mum, putting herself between the two. 

Nor the crack of Mum’s arm as Pearl realizes she made a mistake. A bad mistake. A horrible mistake. 

She told Daddy he was wrong. 

So he corrects her.

(Even if he was wrong, wrong wrong. She knows he’s wrong. Hates that he can’t just sit and think for a bit. Isn’t it obvious? Crying is what always makes her feel better. She does it all the time, even when she’s happy. She knows it annoys him, but it so, so wonderful. Why can’t he just _see?!_ )

Pearl tries to never to correct him again. Daddy is a ‘visionary’. That means he’s always right and his reasons are probably just ‘too complex’ for her young brain to understand. They have a crusade. A divine purpose that must not be stopped. It’s the family business. She’s going to help him one day. It becomes a bare fact of her existence. The thing that marks her as special and different. She is her Daddy’s daughter. 

All the world a joke. 

Which means you never contradict Daddy.

(She’s unfortunately rarely successful. Curious and impulsive as she is, holding herself in check has never been her strength. It’s years and years before she ever grows up enough to fight back.)

* * *

Over the next few years things change and change and change. 

Now that Pearl knows about their shared purpose, the clown-prince decides it’s time for her to start pulling her weight. Now instead of hugs and quiet lessons from Harley, more and more of her time is spent in Daddy’s office. A mad sprawl of blueprints, chemicals and scrawled plots span the walls. Tools are roughly shoved into her hands, even as they send her sprawling with their heavy weight. Giggles and cackles turn suddenly to growls and demands at the drop of a hat. Questions and quizzes are near constant as her Daddy tries to have her guess his genius plans and inventions. 

Pearl quickly learns that the one thing her Daddy had never been able to master was patience.

She makes mistakes as any child would. Drops Daddy’s tools. Asks stupid questions. Contradicts Daddy about his genius plans. Suggests different plots that he hadn’t thought of. 

She pays for these awful mistakes.

(In the process she learns just how fast she heals. Her parents' shared mutations apparently work on a genetic level and are quite necessary so that nothing seems off by the time she’s allowed to escape the workshop to Harley’s arms.)

Pearl learns quickly though. In a matter of months she’s mastered the exact tone to ask a question so her Daddy won’t get mad at either her or Harley. It’s this exact combination of curiosity and awed reverence that instead causes him to cackle and delightedly squeal about his own brilliance. Which lets her carefully write it all down. Daddy hates repeating himself after all, so she has to learn it the first time. It takes her a few more weeks to teach Harley how to make that particular tone, but she eventually manages. After all, her Mum is all bright grins and funny jokes. Never mean. Never cutting. Pearl never wants her to be sad, and the fastest way for Harley to be sad is for Daddy to be mad.

(Pearl steadfastly ignores the sad look on Harleys face as she thanks Pearl but reassures her daughter that as the Mum it’s her job to protect Pearl. In this one instance Pearl is quite happy to ignore her mother’s thoughtful advice.)

Then she starts learning exactly how useful to be in his plans. The first couple of ideas she gives him are too fully formed. She hands him blueprints for new acid bombs or Joker gasses or bank vaults. That’s a mistake though. Of course she’s insulting him by even considering that he couldn’t think them up himself. Sometimes she’s just so stupid. No, instead she learns to only three quarter bake her ideas. Enough to give him a general good idea, but allow him to finish off the rest himself. After all, he’s never mad if he’s making progress on his own genius plots. If she just...helps him along a little then he’ll have less time to sit and stew in his anger when things aren’t coming together. 

(She still has to be careful though. The one time he realized that she had been subtly adding on to his designs and suggestions while he was asleep was one of the worst days of her life.)

Still, if there is one thing that is common amongst the entire family it is a quick wit and a sharp mind. As much as it sucky that she’s always so scared and sad and lonely all the time, she _loves_ learning. Despite all his...not faults… _quirks_ her father is actually a certifiable genius. Asked the right way he’s also a charismatic and highly effective teacher. Always happy to have someone who can keep up to share in his plans. Always happy to cackle and monologue and explain every brilliant bit and bob. Every day with him is spent learning about all sorts of chemistry, mechanics and engineering. 

It becomes a fast comfort to her as she grows. That somehow, someway, she might be able to learn enough to build something that will make this mad, cruel, joke of a world make _sense._ If sometimes she gets a little bored with all the doom, gloom, deathrays and acid bombs, well Harley says good kids eat their veggies even if they hate them. That’s not so very different isn’t it? 

(Plus, if she learns fast enough, maybe she’ll find a way to make it all hurt a bit less.)

It’s not perfect, but Pearl finds herself satisfied. Things could always be so much worse after all. 

(Daddy tells her so all the time after all.)

The highlights of those endless weeks and months though are always trips to see her Aunt Ivy. It’s usually pretty rare. Maybe for a couple weeks every few months. It almost always coincides with her Daddy getting sent away to the ‘madhouse’ as he fondly describes it. Sometimes Harley’s there with him. Sometimes he gets caught on his own. Either way, Pearl only ever has to wait by herself for a day or two before her favorite green plant lady swings by the hideout to pick her up. 

Then she gets to go outside and _play!_ It may be filled with (adorable) flesh eating plants but Ivy’s chosen hideout is just the best playground **ever.** Years ago the plant meta actually commandeered a small abandoned island in the harbor of Gotham city. Well, given that it was originally a dump site for radioactive waste she didn’t _actually_ have to fight too hard to take control over it. It took a bit of research (and a couple inoculations) but they eventually managed to make it safe for Pearl to visit. Even if most non-metahumans would be risking severe cancer after just a few hours walking around. 

Which is just the _best._

After all, there are no icky, stinky, angry humans anywhere (just like Ivy and Pearl like it). Plus the expansive plots are filled with fields of greenery that Ivy has spent years refining and improving. That work leads to the entire island being all lush fruit bearing trees, lovely thick undergrowth, soft grasses and fields. Some of the plants have even started to achieve rudimentary forms of sentience. Which is so **cool!** Since Ivy, ever the worrywort, never lets Pearl go anywhere truly on her own. Which is a huge problem because Aunt Ivy often needs to leave to go do super big important supervillain stuff. 

No, if something truly devastating happens (damn you clearcutters, always demanding so much of Pearl’s limited Aunt Ivy time!) Ivy just sets Julie and Fanny to watch over her. The pair of giant pitcher plants really just love her to pieces. They both have full control of a series of mobile vine-like arms which lets them drag the pots they’re planted in around behind them. Which is so _awesome_ because Ivy also managed to splice a bit of canine DNA into them. So now they have great big long, perfect _teeth_ and follow Pearl all around the island playing like the overgrown puppies they absolutely are.

(Plus, the one time Batsy wanders by the island looking for Ivy they quickly shuffle her off into the woods to protect her from sight. Then they started spitting all sorts of sticky acid at him until he went away. Best. Bodyguards. Ever.)

Watching Pearl and her girls squealing and charging around the island quickly became a sight that never failed to bring a great warm grin to her Mum’s face. Which is just great, since Harley’s ever present bubbly personality kept feeling more and more strained as Pearl and her Daddy spent so much time together. She must be lonely. Daddy is just so busy these days. Where before he was always manic and driven, now he is sheer plain _obsessed_ with defeating batman. Even Pearl has noticed how those rare times where he’s happy and cuddly with the family are vanishing more and more. No. Now it’s all stress and sharp tongues and cutting jibes every single moment. 

It starts Pearl wondering. 

Especially as she watches how… _different_ Harley seems around Aunt Ivy. She smiles so much more. All open and honest and warm. No hard edges or worried frowns or nervous giggles. Plus, with their limited time together Ivy always does her absolute best to limit her supervillain time when Harley and Pearl are hanging out on the island. Those times are so full and happy. All home cooked breakfasts, cheesy movie nights and drinks on the rocky beachside. Ivy and Harley smiling and blushing soppily at each other the whole time. They’re absolutely perfect moments. 

Even with Aunt Ivy’s pained grimaces when ‘mistah J’ comes by to pick Harley and Pearl up. Even with all the unstated little worries between the two most important women in her life. Even with…

(Well, lets just say that Pearls firm belief that we just need to just _talk_ about what makes us sad grows every time they visit Ivy’s place.)

Years pass and pass. 

Plots and plans and hijinks ensue.

(Broken arms, smacks upside the head, shouted orders inevitably follow.)

Till the day when Pearl has just passed her 10th birthday and things turn all topsy turvy. 

It happens like this.

Joker (and he _is_ the joker now. Never Daddy. Not anymore.) has spent years getting nowhere in his crusade against the bat. His attempts to get the world laughing at the karmic joke they all exist though never bears true fruit. His goals escalate harshly, impulsively. Plans are never followed long, no matter how hard Pearl works at perfecting them. Now it’s all ‘damn the consequences, do whatever’ even if that leads to faster and faster returns to Arkham. After so many years the Asylum has practically set up a revolving door for the crazed clown. He’s never in there long. It’s an endless cycle of death, punishment and madness. 

Till he goes that one step too far. 

Kidnaps Batman’s ward. 

Tortures him.

Dips him in the Joker acid. 

Tries to push Batman into that one bad day that will finally cause the man to snap. 

(He does, but not far enough.)

It’s strange though. For years, Pearl has existed mostly on the sidelines of the various capers and heists the family pulled. More of a planner than a do-er, she’d never really seen the aftermath of their actions first hand before. No, this time there’s almost a full week where Robin is tied up in their home, often screaming, sometimes whimpering, always in pain. 

Pearl _hates_ it. 

(Harley does too, though her disgust is better hidden. Covered behind the usual misdirections and subtle manipulations they’ve always used to redirect the Joker’s ire. She’s not always successful at keeping the clown away from the boy, but she does try.)

So, she takes to trying to offer what comfort she can without provoking the Joker’s bloody temper. It’s meagre of course. Barely more than patching up the worst of his injuries and making sure he has more than enough food and water. Her heart hurts so much, that she finds herself unable to stop from giggling. She tries to stop, but it’s a nervous tick that’s an unfortunate byproduct of her parentage. She knows it scares him as he hunches away from her, expecting the worst when a questionably sane clown takes that tone with him. 

(Her laugh isn’t tinged with anger and mania though. It’s always been filled with a strange melancholic whine. Half sob-half cackle. After all, life’s a joke. It’s hopeless. What can one do but laugh and cry in equal measure?)

It takes several days, but eventually Robin realizes that for all her faults, Pearl is not actually her father. Her cackle isn’t a prelude to pain. She doesn’t enjoy the fear it inspires. She isn’t looking for the next sadistic high. There is no plan, no malice in her attention. 

(Just guilt and sadness.)

“I don’t get it.” The boy breathes out quietly, exhausted after an electrocution session with the Joker. “Why do you follow him? Your...you're not like him.” He continues, quiet as a mouse avoiding the housecat that’s ever so eager to snap him up and rip out his guts. 

Sobbing cackles echo through the hideout. Joker shouts something mean through the wall for making a racket. Sadly an all too common occurrence on both fronts. 

“He’s mah father. I’m his... pride and joy, the apple of his eye, the best thing he evah made. The only one capable... of evah carrying on his legacy because he’s a part o'me. What _exactly_ do you think he would do if I were to... betray him by tryin ta leave?” Pearl hisses out to him between her wet chuckles. 

(-and really that’s always been the unstated truth. Pearl knows she’s not being conceited by acknowledging she’s inherited every ounce of her parents genius. Knows that he’s been grooming her to be his successor. Knows that he always breaks the toys that fail him. Knows…)

Robin doesn’t answer. 

The Batman finds the hideout the next day, kicking through a window in a rage. Goons fire and engage him. The fight that follows is sure to be vicious and awe inspiring. However, Harley pushes Pearl out the back door and tells her to go hide at Aunt Ivy’s place. Joker’s following enraged scream follows her down along with the siren song of her Mum’s ribs cracking. With tears in her eyes and a sad chuckle in her throat Pearl picks herself up and turns and runs like a coward. To strong arms, bright hair and soft words. To safety in the storm and comfort in an arm around the shoulder with a warm mug of hot cocoa. Just for one night she wants to let the demi-gods of chaos and order duke it out while she hides at what has always been her real home. 

(If Aunt Ivy and Harley would just _talk_ they could put all this behind them. Start a new life on the island. One without the shouts and pain and anger. It’s so frustrating and stupid and **sad.** )

The police report the next day is far from pleasant. 

The Batman found his ward, who is apparently alive and stable but obviously in a great deal of pain. Joker beat the shit out of Harley, who is currently in a coma after a particularly bad blow to the head. Joker succeeded in his goal of making Batman snap, but the vigilante managed to just barely hold himself back from the edge. Instead of actually _killing_ the Joker, he just didn’t save him. Let him fall from a tall building, breaking his back on the ground below. So now instead the Joker is only partially paralzed instead of dead. 

He’ll probably heal though. Their family always did heal quickly, especially after the acid. It might take a few years, but Pearl is certain he’ll be back terrorizing the streets. One way or another. 

A small, vicious part of her wants to find the Bat and yell at him for being such a stupid coward. She knows that when he gets back her and her Mom will bear the brunt of his temper. Nothing good will come of this.

For the moment, that’s all in the future. 

(-But it won’t be forever.)


End file.
